


nod my head (don't close my eyes)

by dizzy



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 14:19:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16641822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: Phil's awake at five am. (Again.)





	nod my head (don't close my eyes)

"Stop," Dan says, voice gritty with sleep. His hand slaps out and catches Phil on the chest, just over his nipple. He pats it a couple times, clearly not yet entirely of the waking world, and then sighs. "Shh." 

"I'm not making any sounds," Phil whispers. "How can I shh." 

"You're. Stop." Dan shoves his face into the pillow. he doesn't move his hand, fingers splayed out resting against the dusting of hair on Phil's chest, right over his heartbeat. "Your head's loud. Be quiet." 

"Go back to sleep." Phil doesn't have to listen long to realize that's exactly what Dan has done. 

But he can't. He tries to take Dan's advice and quiet his head, but the little hamster on the wheel in the back of his mind is running so fast it feels like sparks are flying against his skull. 

He shuts his eyes and turns over. Dan's hand is dislodged, but Dan doesn't seem to mind or even notice. 

Sleep, Phil thinks. 

Sleep. 

He can do this. 

He can sleep. 

There's a sliver of city light coming in from under the window shade. It flickers sometimes. He starts to wonder what it might be. Ghosts? Birds flying by? Just a faulty light? Who fixes the street lights when the bulbs burn out? He's never seen that before. Maybe there are pictures on the internet.... 

Sleep! 

He shuts his eyes quickly and imagines a window slamming shut. Then he's picturing eyelids that look like windows, white wooden frames and glass with eyeballs behind them. He thinks about how they'd need window blinds and would they have the twisty little sticks you turn to shut them? 

Eye blinds. 

He rolls over onto his stomach. He's facing Dan again. His limbs are starting to tingle in a weird way, but it's not a good feeling. It's restless but he's so tired and just - so tired. All the cells in his body want to be asleep right now, but the hamster won't stop running. 

He should give it a name. 

Maybe then it would stop. It has to be tired now. His mind has been spinning spinning spinning since Saturday morning, since he started contemplating his own death on the floor of a bathroom he hates. Since he sat inside a big white machine and tried not to move for an hour. Since he saw the panic on Dan's face just before Dan could mask it. 

His stomach does a funny little twist. He feels like he hasn't had a proper sleep in approximately seventeen years. 

He turns onto his back, almost full circle from how he'd started. He'd hoped maybe it was just the way he was laying, but his stomach still feels strange and sloshy. 

The sun will probably be coming up soon. How does the hamster have so much energy? There's an achy feeling behind Phil's eyes. He reaches up with both hands balled into fists and rubs fiercely at them. He won't be wearing his contacts for today, that's for sure. His mouth is dry and his eyes are dry and his stomach feels properly sour now and he can even feel a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead and the back of his neck. Suddenly the duvet feels oppressive even though he's got it pushed down to below his nipples.

It's urgent that he throw it off and sit up. He's practically gasping when he does, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The floor is cool against his feet, and the sensation grounds him nicely. 

He knows with mixed resignation and resentment that he can't just get back into bed, though. He doesn't feel nearly as shit as the last time he was up before the sun - he won't be passing out again, thank you very much. But all the same, the hamster wins again. 

*

He lies on the couch upstairs for almost an hour before he hears Dan's heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. 

Normally he'd expect something more along the lines of _what the fuck are you doing_ in that accusatory voice, because Dan is nothing if not put out when he's denied his morning cuddles. 

It's not morning yet, though. It's not even five am, and Dan doesn't sound irate at all. He sounds worried when he asks, "Are you okay? Did you - did something happen? Why didn't you call me-" 

"I'm fine," Phil says, and that's immediately a lie. He thinks of Dan's worried face the weekend before, that first day after - he pictures Dan on his knees scrubbing the bath tub, Dan watching him sleep. He thinks of how sometimes he's too stubborn for his own good and doesn't let Dan in and he knows Dan takes his own cues from that, he knows Dan needs a little coaxing sometimes. 

When he feeling back up to snuff he'll really have to focus on working out Dan's trauma with what happened. 

"Phil?" Dan doesn't sound reassured.

He doesn't know why this is hitting him so hard right now. "I'm not fine. I think. I don't know." 

"Do we need to go back to hospital?" Dan asks. 

It shouldn't surprise Phil that Dan's mind goes to the worst place first. "No," Phil says immediately. "It's not like that. I just - I think it's the tablets. I just feel crap." 

"Okay," Dan says softly. It's so early and it's so quiet. Phil shuts his eyes. Even Dan's footsteps across the room are quiet now. The world seems calm and all the frantic feelings are just on the inside. "Toast?" 

Phil almost smiles. "Maybe tea instead." 

*

Dan makes tea. 

He doesn't make tea often. Neither of them drink it all that much, to the shame of their forefathers. 

But they are still British at the end of the day and when someone's feeling poorly, tea feels like a comfort and a cure. 

He perches on the arm of the couch while Phil sits up to drink. "It's your stomach?" He asks, reaching out to push Phil's soft, product-free hair back up off his forehead. "You had your hand on it when I walked in." 

Phil hadn't even realized. 

"Sort of," he says. He takes another sip. It's still slightly too hot, but he's always had a problem with patience. "I don't think I'm going to sick or anything. I just feel strange. Like pins and needles all over, and my stomach feels queasy." 

"Phil." Dan sounds fond, and amused. "Do you feel hyperactive, by any chance?" 

"Maybe." It had seemed so funny as a joke on the internet, but now he's not sure. "I don't know. If I am, then it's not fair. I think if I did try to get up and move around I might actually sick." 

"Okay first of all, please don't. Second of all, ugh." The last bit has a sympathetic twist to it. The sympathy is nice. So is Dan's hand in his hair, so he leans into that. 

"I don't think I will," Phil says. "It's like - the same way I feel when I'm carsick at the very start." 

"Please tell me your body hasn't adapted to give you motion sickness just from laying down," Dan says. "Or I'm going to have to seriously ask kind of genetic fuckery happened in the Lester bloodline?" 

"My grandparents were first cousins." It's only after he speaks that Phil realizes that probably wasn't a helpful response. "Can we watch some television?" 

It feels too strange to be awake when the rest of the world isn't yet. It puts too many thoughts in his head, and Phil's never been one to linger in existential discomfort. He'd much prefer to just watch anime with his head in Dan's lap. 

* 

The peace only lasts for about twenty minutes. 

His heart is doing a weird racing thing, like the hamster has decided to relocate. 

Phil grins a bit at the mental image of a hamster hooked up to all the valves and tubes of his heart. "Dan," he whispers. 

He just wants to share, but when he looks up he sees Dan's head lolled back against the couch. His eyes are shut and his mouth is open, a touch of dampness glistening at the corner of his lips. 

He'll be snoring in a few more minutes. Phil knows all the little quirks and patterns of Dan, and he takes as much pride in knowing them as someone else would casually grabbing their partners hand as they walked down the street. They've developed their own displays of affection, often found embedded in assertions of knowledge. 

He knows other things Dan likes, too. He leans in and breathes hot against the soft bulge of Dan's dick in his underwear. His heart is racing in a more familiar way now, and it's soothing to channel the nervous energy. 

Does he feel up for this? Maybe. Maybe not. 

Guess he'll just find out. 

*

"What the fuck are you doing?" Dan's voice is sleepy but urgent. 

Phil's impressed with how long he actually stayed asleep. He's got Dan's pants tugged down and his dick pulled out, resting against Phil's tongue where he's been sucking lightly at it for almost fifteen minutes now. 

He likes when Dan's hand cups the back of his head. He likes it even more when Dan groans. 

"Seriously," Dan says. "What the fuck." 

It's blunt in the good way. 

Phil pulls off. "Blowing you."

His voice isn't raspy at all, he hasn't had Dan that far in his mouth and he hasn't wanted to do anything that would even come close to making him cough. It's all been safe and soft and slow and quiet and brilliantly hot. 

"No shit, Sherlock," Dan says. His thighs are tense now. He's gone from a bit hard to very hard and Phil strokes the spit-damp skin with the hand he's not laying on. "Why, though?" 

"Because I like it." Phil kisses just under the head, flicking his tongue over that spot that feels so good. "Can I make you come?" 

"Can you..." Dan mutters and glares a glare that lacks any real impact at all. "We're not having sex." 

"Sex can have many definitions," Phil says. He's being a prat; it's something Dan likes to point out to break Phil of his habit of thinking that if it's not penetration it doesn't count. 

"Shut up," Dan says. 

"But I want to suck you." 

"I refuse to tell your mum you fainted again with my penis in your mouth." 

"I'm not going to faint." Phil pouts and then places a soft kiss on the tip. "I'm poorly, you're supposed to give me what I want." 

"I hate you." Dan tugs his hair a bit. "Shut up and suck." 

Phil does so happily, eyes dropping shot. He can feel Dan's hand on himself, Dan working his own dick over with a total lack of patience while Phil focuses on the first couple of inches. 

It doesn't take him long. He's always worked up when he wakes up hard, always impatient to come. Phil isn't sure if he really wants to swallow but the idea of moving seems like too much effort and he likes the feeling if not the taste, he likes the satisfaction of swallowing Dan down. 

"My turn," Phil says, feeling properly antsy as soon as he feels the last pulse against his tongue. 

*

Dan doesn't play fair. 

Phil does get his turn, but only after Dan's forced him to drink a whole glass of water and then lay back down on the sofa. 

He suspects the motives are not entirely selfless; Dan directs him so that Phil's back is against his chest. Phil knows Dan likes it like this because he wants to be able to have his arms around Phil and feel Phil breathing. 

Really. They're gonna have that conversation. If Dan's therapist has secondhand taught him anything, it's that talking actually does help. 

Sometimes. 

Dan wanking him helps sometimes too, and that's what's happening now; Dan's hand with a dry touch around Phil's cock, tugging him back to hardness. He's not all the way there yet but he loves the soft blank place sex (sex like this, sex the other way, sex any way they want to imagine it) takes him to. 

"Can't fucking believe you," Dan says, pressing a kiss to the side of Phil's head. "First it's toast, now it's a handjob. What'll it be next time you feel poorly? I have to rim you on a fine feather bed with satin sheets I wove myself?" 

"If you're offering." Phil smiles. He loves Dan's melodrama. He loves Dan. 

He loves that he's got someone to take care of him. 

He also loves that thing Dan just did with his hand. 

"Yeah," he breathes, sliding his fingers down Dan's arm to loosely hold his wrist. "Please." 

"You don't have to ask." Dan is nosing at him still, dotting kissing here and there along his hairline and his temple. Phil stretches up and turns his neck, wanting one for his mouth. 

Dan gives it to him. His fingers tighten and squeeze, hold, teasing Phil before he starts to move them again. 

It's just so fucking - nice. He wants to come but he also craves this most when he's feeling off. He can't actually crawl inside Dan's skin but he can do the real-world next best thing of having Dan surround and dominate him, a human security blanket that gripes and grumbles and that Phil never, ever has to question really cares. 

Dan's hand strokes down from Phil's collarbones to the where his public hair starts in one smooth motion, fingertips scratching over the coarse hairs there before he drags them right back up to rest over Phil's heart. "Still with me, old man?" 

Phil's lost track of how many minutes it's been. He nods and swallows. His mouth is dry again; probably best not to say that to Dan. "I'm gonna come," he says, panting out the words. It still takes another handful of strokes after that but Dan is purpose driven now. 

He spills a puddle of white against his own stomach, a satisfying burst of pleasure that ebbs too quickly but in a still pleasant way. 

"You okay?" Dan asks. He sounds a little breathless himself, though he's not hard again. 

Phil takes stock so he can give a proper answer. His heart is racing but it's a just-right feeling and his mind is quiet. "Yeah," he says. "I'm okay." 

*

They crawl back into bed well after the sun has risen. 

"You need to set an alarm," Phil says. 

"I will. But on your phone, and it's staying on my side of the bed." Dan's voice is firm. 

Relationships are about the art of compromise, and Phil's too tired to argue anyway. He hands over his phone and watches Dan set the alarm. 

"When for?" 

"Noon." 

"Dan!" 

"Phil." 

Phil huffs. "Eleven." 

"This is not a negotiation," Dan says. "Also, you're not filming today." 

The beginnings of a genuinely put out feeling start to stir, but Phil's not ready to deal with that so he shoves it back down and buries it. "Fine," he says. 

He'll argue Dan once they wake up. 

For now, the hamster is quiet and he’s going to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> [read and reblog on tumblr](http://alittledizzy.tumblr.com/post/180179904860/nod-my-head-dont-close-my-eyes-rated-e-25k)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> also, did i write the same fic as sarah? maybe. does it matter? nope. because sarah wanted it. <3 but if you liked mine and somehow live under a rock and haven't yet, [go read hers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16568837).


End file.
